A/N:

This was written for The Houses Competition

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Category: Standard

Prompt: [Positive Pairing] Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape

Word Count: 2891

Beta: Wish, FoolOfATook, KeepSmiling, Lady S, Theoretical Optimist, Accio-Broom


Your Best Chance

Minerva stood outside of her classroom door, welcoming students to their first-ever Transfiguration lesson. They were giddy, whispering, and pushing and shoving each other—all except two.

On the opposite side of the corridor, huddled behind a dark stone column, Minerva saw voluminous robes and shock of auburn hair. The red-headed girl seemed to be speaking with someone else.

"Come on, Sev. Ignore them; they're stupid!" Her voice was high-pitched and uneven, and she seemed to be reaching out to the other child.

"Miss Evans, class please." Minerva pursed her lips and looked down her nose at the child.

The young girl squealed as she spun around, wide-eyed. "I'll save you a seat, Sev." She picked up her bag and scarpered away.

The mystery child was Severus Snape. When she cleared her throat, he took a tentative step into the corridor, his head down, and he seemed to be wiping his eyes. He wore ill-fitting, patched robes and pulled at the loose threads on his frayed satchel.

"Mr Snape," Minerva said, "why the waterworks?" Her words were crisp, and with her hands on her hips, she knew she must make a daunting figure.

The child's lip trembled, but his brows were knitted into a scowl. "Nothing." He glared at the floor.

She walked across the corridor and got down to her knees, placing a gentle hand on his small shoulder.

"A big, strong boy like you wouldn't cry over nothing." She sighed. "If you tell me, I might even be able to help."

She knelt there with Severus, waiting for him to speak. Instead, he examined the stone floor, Minerva's shoes, or maybe it was the hem of her mauve robes that he found so intriguing.

"It's Potter and his friends!" he said, his voice quivering in his anger and upset. "They're horrible. They called me names. He ruined my books because they're not brand new like his!"

Severus held up his Transfiguration textbook; pages floated to the floor, and the hardcover landed with a thump at his feet. Someone had intentionally ripped some of the pages into little pieces. Severus looked up at her, and the frown dissipated, leaving him looking vulnerable.

Minerva squeezed his shoulder and softened her expression as much as she was able. "That's definitely something I can help with. Come with me."

She stood up and didn't look behind her as she walked to her office. It was large, and the walls were covered in complicated diagrams that showed animals turning into objects, and oil lamps lit the room with a faint glow.

She expected him to follow, and he did. Sitting behind her desk, she adjusted the photo frames and papers that covered it. There were numerous inkwells, a pot filled with quills, and a quill knife.

Minerva motioned to the chair opposite her, and Severus slumped into it, dropping his bag beside him.

"Right, hand over the books." She held out her hand, cupping it in a demanding gesture. "Stop dawdling. Now."

Severus opened his bag and piled book after book on the desk. There were broken spines, ripped pages, and the hardcovers were wholly detached.

"This won't do. How can an intelligent boy like you study with books like these?" She flicked her slender ebony wand, and the pages fluttered into place. Torn paper melted back together, and the bashed covers smoothed, before moving to hold everything in place.

"Wow! They're like new," Severus said. His knitted brow came undone, disappearing into his hairline. His black, angry eyes were now warm.

She saw a smile that reached his eyes and melted. "Don't you worry about Mr Potter and his friends. I'll be having words."

This was part of the reason she loved her job: helping those children that needed it the most, giving them their best chance.


"Mr Snape, if it's not you again!" Minerva smiled warmly and pulled out a hidden biscuit tin. "Would you like tea?"

The office looked the same as ever. Her heart sank when she saw his swollen lip and bruised cheek. She'd asked Horace if she could deal with it; after all, she had developed a rapport with Severus.

Snape shrugged, but took a biscuit, dabbing his lip with his sleeve.

"Are you going to tell me why you hit Mr Potter?" She frowned, but unlike with other students, she didn't narrow her eyes, and her lips weren't thinned. "I can't help unless you tell me why."

Snape was now thirteen, but he was still small and frail next to his classmates. His beady black eyes stood out with shining tears, but still, he fixed the table with a glare.

"It's his fault, not mine! Ask Lily. She'll tell you all about it," he said, his pitch ascending to a whine.

Minerva flicked her wand, and a steaming cup of hot chocolate appeared in the spot that suffered Severus' ire. "I want you to tell me, Severus."

"Why? What's the point?" he shouted, folding his arms and jutting out his chin. "Detentions don't do anything. They still call me names. Just tell me when my detention is."

Severus turned his head away, glaring at the brass handle on the door.

"So, you were provoked?" Minerva got up from her seat and sat right in his line of sight. "You did wrong by fighting, and you're going to get detention. If James and Sirius did something wrong as well, why should you take all the blame?"

His lip trembled, and he turned away, his chair scraping along the stone floor.

"Severus?"

"I don't want them to take the blame; I want them to stop." He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I don't care if they never get detention again, but I want to stop being the loser they pick on. I'm sick of being called dumb and stupid."

"You, Severus Snape, are not dumb!" She reached out a hand and turned his face towards hers. "Do you hear me? You are one of the smartest boys at Hogwarts!"

"That's not what they said. Potions is easy, anyone can be good at potions, but you have to be clever to do transfiguration."

Minerva frowned. "I'll have you know, I cannot do a lick of potions. Professor Slughorn speaks very highly of you. Ignore those silly boys! Now, I want you to come back here at six, understood?"

He slung his bag over his shoulder, wiped his face and walked towards the door. "Fine…" He turned around, his eyebrow cocked. "You really can't do potions?"

"Not a lick," she said. "Head held high, Mr Snape."

Severus left, his shoulders thrust out and his chin up.

Minerva grabbed some Floo powder from a pot and stepped into the grate, throwing down the glittering dust. "Professor Slughorn's Office."

Green flames erupted around her and flew through the network before appearing in her colleague's office.

"Horace, are you busy?"


Minerva sat behind her desk with Professor Slughorn. When Severus arrived, he rolled his eyes and dragged his feet over to the desk.

"Severus," she said, "we're here to talk about—"

"—my behaviour and fighting. I know. Just get it over with." He dropped his bag beside the chair and threw himself in it. With his head tipped forward, his shiny black hair hid his face.

"Not at all, Mr Snape." Slughorn sat up in his chair and pulled an envelope from his pocket. "I don't think we've ever had someone so gifted at potions."

He handed over an envelope. Severus took it in his hands, staring at it wide-eyed. The parchment was thick and creamy, and his name was written on the front in Professor Slughorn's very distinctive cursive.

"The Slug Club? But... you never ask third-years."

Professor Slughorn smiled, his gooseberry-green eyes sparkling. "I've never had such a gifted third year before."


"What did you want, Professor M?"

Minerva stood at her office door, watching Severus walk towards her.

As at the start of every school year, he was smiling. She suspected he was happy to get three meals a day, to be away from an abusive parent, and most of all, a chance for his aches and pains to heal. Unfortunately, it never lasted.

"How was your summer, Mr S?" she asked.

Severus smirked. "Don't try to be cool. It doesn't suit you, Professor!"

They walked into the office, and Minerva placed a mug of coffee in front of Severus with a plate of biscuits.

Severus grabbed two biscuits and stuffed them in his mouth, and crumbs covered his robes. "The best bit was my homework."

"Sugar for your coffee?" she asked.

Severus screwed up his face. "And ruin it? Are you mad?" He picked up the mug and started to guzzle. "Anyway, why am I here? I've not had a chance to punch Potter yet, and that's despite my very best efforts."

"Severus, there will be no punching."

"I'll try." He grinned, wiping his face and grabbing another biscuit.

"I brought you here because Professor Slughorn and I were concerned. Your work has been—"

"—I'll try harder at Transfiguration. Check my homework. I studied with Lily for hours and hours to get it right. She said it was good." Suddenly, his smile faded, and he went rummaging in his bag for the homework.

Minerva narrowed her eyes. "You know my feelings on Divination, Severus, so please don't try predicting what I'm about to say. We were concerned that fifth-year potions wouldn't keep your attention. So, after much consideration, we've decided to add you to the Advanced Potions Club."

His jaw dropped, and for a moment, he was dumbstruck.

"Seriously? I get to do more difficult stuff? What about Advanced Defence? I know I can fit it in." He was on the edge of his seat, leaning in, grinning and wide-eyed. "Please!"

"I'm afraid Advanced Defence is not an option, Severus. Mainly because we have another new professor."

"You'd be better off hiring me. I was much smarter than Professor Highbone."

Minerva sipped her tea with pursed lips. "Between you and me, a trained Flobberworm would have been better!"

Severus laughed. It was rare, but when he did, it never failed to make Minerva melt, and her very own smile would come through.

"So, when we do career advice, you want to be a Professor?"

"Merlin, no! I think I would rather train Flobberworms than teach annoying children." He relaxed in his chair, his coffee still in his hands and legs crossed.

"Said the annoying child. Back to the matter at hand. Advanced Potions Club is working on potions from the sixth-year text, so—"

"—It's okay. I'll write to my mum. She'll send it. If we'd known, she would have gotten it already. She loves that I do well in Potions."

Minerva tried to suppress her smile as she pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. She placed it on the desk in front of Severus who looked at it quizzically.

"That's for you. We didn't have time to add the book to your list, and the first club meeting is tonight."

He ripped away the paper, and there was a brand new, blue textbook. Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. The hardcover was covered in soft fabric and on the front was a bubbling cauldron. It even had that 'new book smell'.

His shoulders sank. "Why do you keep doing this?" he asked, shaking his head.

"As I said, we didn't have time."

"You know that they know, right?" He looked at her with sad eyes, waving the book like damning evidence. "You realise that this adds fuel to the fire! I'll get mocked for being a teacher's pet on top of being a greasy nerd that's destined to become a Death Eater."

Minerva slammed her hand on the desk. Severus jumped in his seat. "Don't you dare call yourself that. Severus Snape, you deserve your best chance, and as Deputy Head of this school, I will be damned if you don't get it, do you understand?" Her eyes flashed.

Severus sneered at her. "NO. That's not it at all. You pity me because my dad beats me black and blue, so you give me special treatment. I don't want pity. I don't want your best chance. I want mine, my own. Do you understand?"

"Which is why I got you in Advanced Potions and not Advanced Transfiguration." Her voice was low and even, but she pointed a sharp quill at Severus. "It was well-meant, and I do not pity you. You're a good student, Severus."

"It doesn't change how they'll treat me, though, does it?" He sighed, taking the book. "Thanks anyway, Professor."

He walked out of the room without even meeting her eye.


Minerva glanced back down at the notes she'd made after hearing about the incident. She clasped her hands in front of her, watching Severus helplessly.

He sat glaring out of her window. A curled lip and eyes focused on the rain hitting the pane of glass told her everything she needed to know.

"You have to understand what you said. From Lily's point of view, it's the worst thing you could say."

He huffed, his greasy hair floating for a second before falling back into his eyes. Unmoving with folded arms and crossed legs, his left foot flicking erratically. They had been talking for a while, or rather, she'd been talking at Severus.

Minerva got up and stepped in front of the window.

"Severus." He looked past her. Minerva placed a gentle hand under his chin, looking him directly in the eye. Soft green eyes met harsh black, and her brows puckered. "That word—"

Severus pushed the chair back with his feet and stood up, backing away.

"—I said sorry! She doesn't want to know." Shaking hands fumbled with the strap on his bag; agitated and upset, he refused to meet her eye.

Minerva took a step forward, but Severus backed up, looking towards the door. As she reached a hand out to his shoulder, he shrugged her away.

"Severus," she began, holding her hands up in surrender, "we've talked about your friends be—"

"—And who am I supposed to spend time with, then? The goody Gryffindors who levitated me and pulled down my trousers? How about Lily? Oh, wait, she's been too busy fawning over James and gossiping with Mary!"

Minerva crossed her arms. "I have never considered those boys to be 'goody goody,' as you like to put it. You know that, Severus Snape. I have always done whatever I was able to do to help you. But your friends in Slytherin—"

"—The only people that like me!"

"I like you, Severus," she said, her voice quivering. "They cursed Mary for being a Muggle-Born, so you then saying that word, Severus… Well, let's just say it's sending a strong message."

Severus rolled his eyes, the light of glinting of the tears in his eyes.

"So, Lupin isn't guilty of bullying me because he doesn't join in," he leaned forward and looked Minerva dead in the eye, his arms folded, grinding his teeth, "but I'm guilty of my friends cursing Mary? Ask her. I. Did. Nothing."

"Severus, I am talking to you because I want to help. I'm not holding you to account for what your friends did, just the words you said. I'm worried you're going the wrong way. I told you; I want you to have your best chance."

"And I told you; I want mine!"


Minerva sat in the Great Hall drinking coffee and eating a plate of scrambled egg. The Daily Prophet sat beside her, but she dared not pick it up. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had rapidly gained more and more followers, some of them her own students.

So, she focused on the little things, like fluffy scrambled egg, and the smell of crisp, salty bacon, the fresh students that were young and innocent, Muggle-Borns who walked into the Great Hall, still staring at the ceiling in wonder. Lesson plans plagued her mind, and the headlines were filled with death counts and heartbreaking tales. Who needed to focus on that?

She heard the noise of a hundred wings beating through the air as the post was delivered. A pitch-black owl landed in front of her. It was burdened with a note and a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine. She unwrapped the tiny roll of parchment.

'I know you're disappointed. I'm sorry, Professor M.'

She felt the bile rise in her throat as she tore away the wrapping. Advanced Potion Making, and when she opened it, she saw the inscription 'Property of the Half-Blood Prince'. A hand covered her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Minerva!"

She felt an elbow in her side, and quickly, she covered the book. She felt the parchment that Horace pushed into her hand. The Daily Prophet used thinner and rougher parchment than the rolls they used at Hogwarts, and somehow it always left ink residue on her fingers. Her eyes were still fixed on the note: 'I'm sorry…'

"It's a damn shame. We all know you tried everything to help him," Horace whispered in her ear, his hand squeezing hers.

She glanced down, but she couldn't read more than the headline.

SEVERUS SNAPE WANTED IN CONNECTION TO THE TORTURE AND MURDER OF BENJY FENWICK.